


Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

by MotherGoddamn



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:51:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherGoddamn/pseuds/MotherGoddamn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jesse St. James and Sebastian Smythe both want into Blaine's highwater pants. He's oblivious and doesn't take them seriously, so he won't pick one. The obvious answer? Jesse and Sebastian must whip out their greatest competitive skills, sexy and otherwise, and fight for Blaine's affections.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse St. James and Sebastian Smythe both want into Blaine's highwater pants. He's oblivious and doesn't take them seriously, so he won't pick one. The obvious answer? Jesse and Sebastian must whip out their greatest competitive skills, sexy and otherwise, and fight for Blaine's affections.

 

  **I. The Show Must Get Off**

Jesse St. James deserved the best. The most sought after teaching position at NYADA, the most volumising hair products, the fastest car, and only the most stylish of cravats. And what Jesse was looking at, right at this very moment, was _the_ best the NYADA Belters had to offer.

Blaine Anderson.

Jesse had heard of Blaine, of course. That Kewpie doll Kurt Hummel had been dating him for a time. Hell, Kurt had never shut up about it on Facebook. Jesse had come very close to deleting him, but to deprive the world of his numerous _Queen_ cover version uploads was too dire a price to pay for suffering a dull ‘friend’ on a social network site. So, Jesse had granted Kurt the pleasure of remaining. Which afforded him certain juicy titbits. Like that Blaine Anderson was spending his freshman year of college single.

Well. Not for long.

“Stunning,” Jesse said, sidling up to the boy as he left the stage. “A little off your pitch at the start there and some truly bizarre facial expression choices, but overall?” He stopped in front of Blaine, looking from his toes to the top of his head. _Slowly_. “Stunning.”

“Wow, thank you so much!” Blaine bounced on his heels. “You really are the most amazing coach. Seriously.” He placed a hand on his heart. “I never knew that _Aqua_ could be done with so much grace and emotion.”

Raising his chin, Jesse flicked back his hair. This was going to be like taking candy from a baby. A sexy, sexy baby.

Blaine frowned. “What’s wrong? You look a little bit ill?”

“Nothing. A simile went wron— Never mind. Listen, how about you and I go for a little drink? Discuss your future. With a talent like yours, you could go places.” Jesse smiled as he imagined those places in lurid detail.

Blaine bit his lip and glanced behind him. “Oh, I was supposed to be going for a bite to eat with Sebastian.” Following his gaze, Jesse sneered at the chinless beanpole staring back at him. _Please_. This was the big leagues.

“That’s a real shame.” Jesse stared sorrowfully down at Blaine, trying to ignore the crick in his neck. “It’s just I have this director friend who I would love to introduce you to and Quentin is in town this Fri—“

Blaine practically burst open. “Quentin Tarentino! The director?”

“Yes, Quentin Tarentino is a director.” God, Jesse _hated_ to be interrupted. It wasn’t good for the vocal chords. “Anyway, I thought maybe we could perhaps talk.” He reached out a hand, rubbing at Blaine’s shoulder. His thumb scraped gently over Blaine’s collarbone and Jesse didn’t miss the shiver and the eyelash flutter that he responded with.

“Uh, sure. Okay. I’ll send Sebastian a text. I’m sure he’ll understand.”  
   
Blaine hurriedly pulled his cell out as Jesse led him away. Glancing back, he saw Sebastian glaring at him, almost emanating with rage.

Sometimes it was just too, too easy.

 **Smythe: 0; St. James: 1.**  
 

* * *

  
   
 **II: Don’t Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth**

Sebastian liked to be on top in all spheres of life, but he’d make an exception for Blaine. Always, he thought, before his brain screen wiped that thought away and focused on the hard warm press of Blaine’s strong hands pinning him down. Blaine’s wide hazel eyes said far more than his sometimes-clumsy words could, and Sebastian whimpered deep in his throat, Blaine’s tongue flickering against his neck, doing a lazy slick slide that made his toes curl. Sebastian arched his hips up, needing more, a little more.

Just like that.  
   
Yeah, just like that. God, he'd come in his pants if Blaine rose that toned thigh of his any higher, the fine dark hairs on Blaine's leg tickling his skin. Sebastian groaned, looking up to meet Blaine’s eyes, and... what the hell?

Sebastian sat up. He blinked, twice. “Are you looking at your _watch_?”

Blaine nodded. “I have an audition at three. Jesse helped arrange it for me.”

Nobody, but nobody, interrupts making out with Sebastian Smythe. Hell, he’d even managed to get that rule of his added to the Warbler Handbook in senior year.

Blaine didn't even say sorry; he probably didn't even realise the groan Sebastian emitted from his gritted teeth was not one of pleasure. Pleasure left Sebastian’s body so quickly that in the space of five seconds, he’d gone from feeling his underwear were too tight, to feeling that his underwear had been given a cold rinse in the washing machine.

“Isn’t Jesse great?” Blaine said, standing up, his palms sweeping in front of him as though he was trying to land an aeroplane. “He says he knows people; isn’t that kind of him, Seb? Don’t you think?”

“Of course,” Sebastian said. Jesse would carry John Goodman up the Chrysler Building in a sedan chair it if helped him get his slimy hand inside Blaine’s ankle-swinging pants. “And for the last time, please don’t call me Seb. It makes me sound like I have a skin condition when I have four perfectly good syllables you can use.”

“He’s just always so kind to me!” Blaine didn't appear to be listening as he fumbled with his shirt buttons, hastily redressing. “It’s such an opportunity! Such a challenging role! Did you know that Jim Parsons auditioned for over twenty pilots before making the switch from theatre to television, and here I am, barely out of High School, and...”

Sebastian decided to cut to the point. “Leading man material, I take it?” he asked, trying to keep the cynicism out of his voice, because he doubted St. James would have connections for anything on television that didn’t entail trying to sell a snuggie or a DIY colon detox kit to gullible customers with far too much money and time on their hands.

“A titular role in a sitcom? No! It’s better than that!”

Blaine bounced on his feet as he thrusted a slightly dog-eared script under Sebastian’s nose. It was marked with Blaine’s spidery, messy print, and freckled with spots of neon pink highlighter and pictures of, what he supposed, Blaine’s ‘expressions’ would be during his character’s monologue.

“ _One Life to Live_?” Sebastian said, with a frown. “That's not... going to challenge your acting.”

“A little snobbish perhaps? It did win a GLAAD media award.”

“For what, ensuring gay people engage in meaningful social activity rather than watch it?”

Sebastian stared ahead at his reflection in Blaine’s dresser. His shirt was crinkled, hair sticking up in a bizarre cowlick, and while his throat was as dry as sand, he still looked like he was about to spit out a mouthful of sour milk.  
   
Not suave, Sebastian. Not suave at all.

“Well, Kurt always used to watch...” Blaine shook his head. “Anyway. They're looking for a gay kid who develops feeling for his boyfriend's brother, and Jesse said I'd be perfect for the part.”

“Oh, did he, now?”  
   
“I just... it doesn't seem very plausible, does it?” Sebastian couldn't help but find it adorable as he saw the cogs turn in Blaine’s head, but while he mused on the best strategy to come out on top in this particular situation, Blaine shook his head sadly.  
   
Blaine padded across the floor, shaking his head. “I mean, even if his boyfriend’s brother looks like a young Chris Klein, and they did share a bed that one time, and...” For some reason, Blaine slapped his hand to his forehead. “No! He’s just not going to make out with him to make his boyfriend jealous! And... and what about family values? Kids watch this with their parents, don’t they?”

“And Jesse thinks that role is perfect for you, hm?”

Blaine nodded. “He’s obviously got good intentions, but don’t you think this role might look more than a little inappropriate on my resume?”

“Randy Harrison,” Sebastian said, pressing his palms together.

Blaine quirked an eyebrow. “Who’s Randy Harrison?”

“Exactly!” Sebastian stood up, patting Blaine’s shoulder before rummaging in his satchel and extracting a thick manila envelope. “It’s far too early in your burgeoning career to be typecast. Don’t you think it’s time to edge it up a little, Blaine?”

“Sebastian, this seems rather...” Blaine paused to fiddle with his bow tie. “Explicit.”

“Do you want a Peabody Award by age twenty one or not?”

“But... but why is there a diagram? Sebastian? Is that... is that a horse?” Blaine’s eyes narrowed and his cheeks turned a delightful shade of crimson. “Is this part... _for_ the horse?”

“With a spot of method acting, Blaine Anderson, you can _be_ that horse!”

“Oh!” Blaine's eyes were wide, and bright; it should have been disconcerting, but he's just so damn happy. “How artistic! I can really put my own spin on this, don’t you think? Like, Paul Newman, or… no! James Dean. I'll be a rebel without a rider! The horse who listens to men! The...”

Blaine's words didn't even have time to leave his throat as Sebastian smirked wildly and pressed him against the wall. It was a little like a Jane Fonda video, only with perhaps more neighing than necessary, but Sebastian still managed to bloom a few hickeys on that delicious tanned neck while Blaine’s mouth was occupied with making a plethora of carrot and stick jokes.  
   
It’s not the weirdest make-out session Sebastian’s ever had, that’s for sure, and so he'll roll with this. He'll deal.

And, though Sebastian didn't need to check _his_ watch, he knew the audition was a distant memory.

 **Smythe: 1; St. James: 1.**  
 **Game on.**  
 

* * *

  
**III: The Deadliest Catch**

“Careful!” Blaine gasped, his eyes opening wide as Jesse pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses against the line of his jaw. “That’s -- _oh God_ \-- that’s... the fish!”

Jesse was too busy focusing on other things to listen. The sights and sounds were simply breathtaking. Beams of sunlight streamed through the car windows and danced across Blaine’s gorgeous, open-mouthed face. He admired how Blaine’s thigh shifted between his, admired his own ability to make Blaine groan so deeply in his throat he thrummed like a double bass.

He clutched at Blaine’s muscled shoulders, his hands feeling so large, so strong, so powerful, and Blaine writhed beneath him, arched up his hips, his thick, hard cock rubbing against Jesse’s with delicious friction. Blaine’s voice could undo him, deep velvet-soft whispers of _more_ , and _please_ , and Blaine’s frantic kisses made him feel like he was pure id, he was sex incarnate, he was nothing but an orga-

“Jesse! The fish!”

"Put him down, then!” Jesse snapped, pulling his face back to look at Blaine. Instantly, he melted, Blaine’s expression showing so much tenderness and so much concern. “Here, give him to me.” Taking the fish from Blaine gently, he placed the bag down on the floor of the car. “See? He’s fine.”

Blaine grinned and looped his arms behind Jesse’s shoulders, pulling him down for another kiss. Breaking away, his lips wet and shiny, his whisper was the most delicious thing Jesse had ever heard. Well, outside of an auditorium during competition season, but Blaine’s sumptuous words came close.

“You were so manly when you knocked those coconuts down. I’ve never seen such agility. Such heady determination.”

Of course, Jesse had paid that idiot carnie $100 to pull the lever on those damn coconuts. It was worth it; having Blaine rubbing against him _just like that_ made it worth every damn cent, even if he was slightly concerned that Blaine didn’t seem to realise he’d witnessed a miracle.  
   
Obviously, Jesse was fantastic at everything he set his mind to, but even _he_ couldn’t knock down several coconuts before he’d thrown the actual damn ball. Clearly, Blaine was just too sweet and innocent for this world.

It drove Jesse completely wild.

“Has Sebastian ever taken you to the fair?” Jesse asked, nibbling at Blaine’s ear and cupping his delectable rear tightly. He moaned as the action caused Blaine to push his hips up hard and fast, breathy little pants escaping his mouth and his breath fanning Jesse’s cheek. “I bet he didn’t win you a fish, did he? Did he, Blaine?” he asked with a growl.

“No,” Blaine gasped. “He—he, oh, there! Please, Jesse. Uh!”

“He what?” Blaine was twisting his fingers into Jesse’s hair now, his teeth biting at Jesse’s jaw as he bucked wildly up into him. “He what, Blaine?”

“He got me a Patrick balloon!” Blaine said, groaning, his hands roaming wildly up and down Jesse’s back as he ground his body back into the tilted car seat. “From Spongebob! Oh, God, yes, Spongebob!”  
   
Damn that Smythe! That was so much better then a damn fish. Jesse just didn’t understand why people did that to themselves. What was enjoyable about owning a fish? Oh, sure. It's peaceful. It swims around and around and around. You know what else goes around and around and around? A fucking fly. And you can just swat that when you get tired of it.

And it was the dim way they stare -- not at you, through you. Blub, blub, blub. A dog jumps up to greet you, a cat curls on your lap. A fish just is. It sits in its fucking expensive aquarium (or worse, nondescript cheap bowl), swimming back and forth, back and forth. It's the most fucked-up metaphor for the banality of human life.

Jesse may as well have won Blaine a pet fucking rock. Rocks don't eat. A rock can look vacant and be boring but doesn't die on you. A rock doesn't start floating in the air once it's dead. You don't have to flush a putrid, slimy rock corpse down the toilet. And you'll get just as much love and personality from the rock as you do your vacant, staring fish.

“Uh? Jesse?” Blaine said, with a pitiful whimper. His eyes fluttered shut and red blossomed in his cheeks as his teeth worried at his bottom lip. “Why have you stopped?” He grabbed at Jesse's ass and pushed their groins together. “Don’t—don’t stop, _please._ ”

Okay, so Sebastian had beaten him at the whole whimsical fair gift thing. But, he wasn’t beating him to this: causing Blaine Anderson to come completely undone under his expert - and envied the world, no, the _universe_ over - ministrations.

“Sure, Blaine, whatever you want.” Lifting Blaine’s hips from under him, Jesse slid their bodies together, keeping a furious pace. He kissed him, hard, wet and dirty. Jesse's tongue fucked its way into Blaine’s mouth, too much tongue, too much teeth but not enough contact. He felt the twist in his stomach that told him he was close and if Blaine’s frantic, erratic movements and muttered curses were anything to go by, so was he.

Biting his bottom lip, Blaine arched his body up, groaning so loudly Jesse was surprised the car windows didn’t shake. Jesse might have been superhuman, but even _he_ couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face into the sweaty crook of Blaine’s neck as he uttered his own cry and released into his DKNY jeans, his leg kicking out on its own accord.

“That was—“ Blaine said, his voice sounding drunk, sweat beading on his forehead.

“Yes.” Jesse smirked and gave him a nod. “I know.”

Ugh.  Jesse frowned at the strange sensation against his ankle, clammy drops of... something dripping down the hem of his sock. Yeah, he’d come like a volcano, but surely it hadn’t managed to dribble all the way down there?

Oh, fuck.

_The fucking fish!_

**Smythe: 1; St. James: 2.**  
Finding Nemo: something Jesse wished he had a personal assistant for.  
 

* * *

  
   
 **IV: Blood, Sweat and Skates**

While Jesse corrected Blaine’s choreography, which in Sebastian’s extensive experience shouldn't entail placing one’s hand quite that low on one’s student's back, Sebastian decides to make his move. It’s a low blow, but if Jesse’s phone password is 7827 -- STAR, and yes, Sebastian guessed it on his first attempt despite the fact his fingers desperately wanted to tap out DICK -- how could he _not_ sneak a peek?

For someone who claimed to be the world’s best everything, Jesse’s inbox seemed awfully sparse. Nothing from Blaine, but though Jesse’s dumber than a sheet of toilet paper, even _he_ would know to delete those messages. There was one from a girl called Rachel and his eyes glaze over as soon as he reads the word _mellifluous_ and he moves on. Hm ‘Rita’? That might contain some delicious gossip, but it’s signed _love you pookie xoxo mom_ and Sebastian laughed so much his cheeks burn.

Reaching for his bottle of Evian, he lets the cool water coat his throat and fan the flames of laughter before tapping his finger several times, searching for _something_. Sure, of course Jesse's lacking in the friends department, but... ah.

_‘Jesse St. Jame’s To-Do List’_

Jackpot. And, who else but Jesse would name his to-do list after _himself_? With the apostrophe in the wrong place, nonetheless.

_1\. Blaine._  
 _2\. Remember to poke pencil in mouth every five minutes to maintain dimples._  
 _3\. Ask Johnny Rockets for feedback._

What? Well, Jesse _would_. And, Sebastian realises, if Jesse needed to ask for feedback after sex, he was like Katy Perry: all style and no substance. Well, at least he'd never have to worry about Blaine going back for a repeat performance. And what kind of a name was Johnny Rockets? Did Jesse screw a porn star with premature ejaculation issues?

Sebastian saunters over to Jesse and Blaine, even more determined to beat his rival. His interest is primarily carnal, sure, but he doesn't want Blaine to be presented with a golf club scorecard after the act, either. Not even _he_ would be that callous.

“So, Johnny Rockets, huh?”

Jesse growls, and Sebastian has a skip in his step as he returns to his dorm for a hot date with Google and a few... less salubrious web sites. He sips his amaretto and coke with a smile, because as it turns out? Johnny Rockets is a burger-serving graveyard for show choir also-rans, and Jesse St. James is so pathetic he can’t even get a Jesse St. McJob.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you did that for me!” Blaine says, his eyes twinkling. “Jesse tried, but...” Frowning, Blaine looks up and shakes his head ruefully. “They said he was using too much artistic licence with the smiley ketchup faces. Poor Jesse. That really hit him hard. Do you think we should send him some flowers, or...?”

Sebastian ignores him. “Of _course_ I would do that for you,” he says, carding his hands through Blaine’s hair. “Why wouldn’t I? Tristan’s a _friend_. And, also, after that night at The Birdcage last week, my blackmail file on him is longer than the revised edition of _War and Peace_.”

“Let me thank you,” Blaine says, lowering his eyes. "Please?"

Sebastian gulps as Blaine sinks to his knees. Well, skates to his knees, more accurately. The other members of staff didn’t wear skates, but, well. This was _Blaine_. One always had to make some allowances.  
   
Blaine giggles lightly and licks his lips. He flashes Sebastian his wide, boyish smile, and good _god._ Sebastian would skate to Iowa in a blizzard if he could see Blaine smile like that every day.

Yeah, Sebastian knows Blaine’s knees are going to _ache_ on the cheap, dirty linoleum floor of the restaurant, but then it’s not like that’s his problem, now, is it?

Exhaling, Blaine flashes Sebastian that beautiful smile again and nuzzles his nose against Sebastian’s underwear. Sebastian presses his hips forward with a nod, and Blaine slides his boxer shorts to the ground. Blaine’s hands clutch Sebastian's thighs, keeping him steady, as he flicks his delectable tongue against the head of his cock.

Sliding forward, his mouth spit shiny, Sebastian groans as Blaine’s right hand squeezes his ass. Blaine's mouth takes him deeper, and deeper, Blaine’s nose making contact with his skin, and _God_. It’s skittery, Blaine losing balance occasionally, sliding forward, but he’s adding just the right amount of friction, the occasional scrape of teeth and brush of stubble as Blaine attempts to keep him in place.

On the top ten list, without a doubt.

Blaine sucks him, hard, his cheeks hollowing, grabbing him harder, his tongue fluttering against the base of his cock, and Sebastian comes with a low moan, the air knocked out of his lungs. Blaine swallows, then fucking licks his lips, and darts forward to lap his tongue against the head of Sebastian’s cock, wanting to clean him of every drop.

Sebastian appreciates the gesture, really, but he’s spent, too sensitive, it’s too much, and he lazily shakes his head as he grabs Blaine’s curls between his fingers and gently pulls him away. Blaine laughs brightly and wipes his mouth on his sleeve, his breath coming in hitching pants, and Sebastian sinks down, joining him on the floor. He pulls Blaine in for a kiss, his toes clenching as he tastes himself, salty and bitter on Blaine’s talented tongue.

By the time Sebastian’s done, Blaine will be so sated he won’t even be able to _spell_ Jesse, and better yet? They can share lunch, afterwards. He’s not sure what his favourite perk of Blaine’s new part-time job is: free food, or those sinfully tight red towelling hot pants.

 **Smythe: 2; St. James: 2.**  
 

* * *

  
   
 **V: Girth, Grins and Fire**  
   
Jesse’s eyes were closed. His head thrown back in artistic tempered abandon as the velvet sound of perfection wound its way up his throat and blessed all those near that were equipped with hearing. He was magnificent, he was ethereal, he was a _god_.

_I drive these brothers crazy,_  
 _I do it on the daily,_  
 _They treat me really nicely,_  
 _They buy me all these ices._  
 _Dolce & Gabbana,_  
 _Fendi and that Donna_  
 _Karan, they be sharin'_  
 _All their money got me wearin' fly_  
 _Brother I ain't askin,_  
 _They say they love my ass ‘n,_

He smirked into the auditorium at Blaine. The boy was clearly enthralled with Jesse’s flawless take on the song, in fact— _what the fuck_?

Jesse leapt backwards as Sebastian, the chinless douche, completed an enthusiastic cartwheel across the stage, narrowly missing his nose.

_Seven Jeans, True Religin's,_  
 _I say no, but they keep givin'_  
 _So I keep on takin'_  
 _And no I ain't taken_  
 _We can keep on datin'_  
 _I keep on demonstrating._

He sang, wriggling his hips and shooting Jesse a wink. Truly, the man did not have Jesse’s flair for an arousing hip wiggle. Unless his goal was to look like he had been recently diagnosed with Sydenham's chorea.

Glaring at him, Jesse sauntered to the front of the stage, joining in with his vocals. Blaine seemed to like this development and was leaning forwards in his seat, hands clasped into a prayer and delicious pink tongue wetting his bottom lip as he took them both in.

_My love (love), my love, my love, my love (love)_  
 _You love my lady lumps (love),_  
 _My hump, my hump, my hump (love),_  
 _My humps they got you_

Jesse ran his hands over his chest as Sebastian dropped into frenzied squat thrusts. This was a piece of cake. Blaine would have no choice after seeing the two foes side by side. Poor Sebastian. As if he ever had a chance once the legendary Jesse St. James shadow had been cast.

_What you gon' do with all that junk?_  
 _All that junk inside that trunk?_  
 _I'ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,_  
 _Get you love drunk off my hump._  
 _What you gon' do with all that ass?_

Jesse began to slap at Sebastian’s ass, as he leaned over to take it. Hmm, surprisingly pert. Jesse had suspected for some time that he didn’t actually possess one. Just a flat slab of skin where his buttocks should be.  
   
 _All that ass inside them jeans?_  
I'm a make, make, make, make you scream  
Make you scream, make you scream.  
Cos of my hump (ha), my hump, my hump, my hump (what).  
My hump, my hump, my hump (ha), my lovely lady lumps

The two dropped to their knees and held out their palms towards Blaine, chests heaving from their exertions. They were rewarded with an ecstatic Blaine leaping to his feet and clapping, face split in a happy grin.

“Guys! That was so amazing. Really awesome!”

Jesse shook back his hair. “Well, _obviously_.”

“I’m glad you were able to get past Jesse’s pitch trouble,” said Sebastian. “You know? At the start. And in the middle. And at the end.”

Jesse shot him a hard glare. “I’m just _thrilled_ you were able to concentrate on the performance without ripping off your belt so Sebastian had something to bite down on.”

Blaine laughed good naturedly. “You were _both_ great! Really, but you know what would be really fantastic?” Blaine raised up on tiptoes, his expression hopeful. “I mean—it would just really blow me away.”

Jesse’s head snapped to attention on the word’s _blow_ and _me_. “Anything. My range is extensive and varied. I imagine it will have to be a solo, though, as Sebastian needs to go and buy a truckload of medication for his rather serious sinus condition.”

“Huh? What sinus condition?”

“You mean your voice always sounds that nasally?” Jesse frowned. “Hmm, anyway. Blaine, what can _I_ do for you?”

“It’s just—“ Blaine rubbed at his neck, a blush spreading across his cheekbones. “I’ve always found it really, _really_ hot when a guy—“

“What?” Jesse and Sebastian said in unison.

“When a guy sings funk.” Blaine’s eyelids fluttered shut. “ _Funk._ ”

“Funk?” Jesse blinked rapidly. “I- er—I—“

“I’m not sure—I mean---“ Sebastian shook his head and glanced over at Jesse. His eyes spoke of defeat, but Jesse could not take comfort in that.

“Oh.” Blaine’s face fell. “That’s okay. Don’t worry.” He sighed heavily. “Kurt could do funk.”

Jesse ground his teeth together. Yeah? Well Kurt Hummel could go funk himself.

 **Smythe: 2; St. James: 2.**  
 **A motherfu _n_ king draw**  
 [  
](http://epanaphoric.livejournal.com/6986.html)


	2. Chapter 2

**VI:  Two’s Company, but Three’s the Magic Number**  
  
“So,” Blaine said, rubbing his hands together, his heart pounding in his chest. “I expect you know why I’ve called you to this... meeting.”  
  
Sebastian raised his eyebrow. “Meeting? Is  _that_  what they’re calling it nowadays?”  
  
“Will you ever shut up?” said Jesse, perched on Blaine’s bed and furiously scribbling something in his reporter’s notebook. “I am trying to concentrate here! This is important!”  
  
Blaine winced as Sebastian roughly grabbed the pen from Jesse’s grasp.  
  
Jesse stood up, hands on hips. “What the hell? I was preparing a speech there!”  
  
“Preparation, eh?” Sebastian smirked wildly and tossed the pen on the floor before stamping on it, his smirk growing wilder still. “More like a lack of improvisation. There’s your answer to why the Cheesecake Factory wouldn’t call you back for a second interview, let alone Johnny Rockets.”  
  
“I got that pen at Disneyworld! You can’t just break something from the happiest place on earth! I haven’t been this distraught since they didn’t give me Vicodin after my wisdom tooth surgery last year.” Blaine frowned as Jesse reached in his pocket for a handkerchief and rubbed away a tear from his cheek. “I’m going to ruin you for this.  I’m going to give that solo to the homeless man with the pet macaque who sits outside Target, and that  _macaque_  has a far greater range than you, you little…”  
  
Blaine looked around his dorm room and hummed a quiet little tune in his head. He was trying to keep his lips pursed in a tight line, and very much trying not to grab Jesse by his lapels and kiss him senseless and press Sebastian’s head down his body until his mouth was occupied with something other than jealous put-downs.  
  
Yes, Blaine couldn’t help but smile to himself. Every surface of his cramped dorm room contained a delicious reminder of the games that had kept him going through the dullest of Accountancy lectures over the past few weeks. There were the unlaced skates on the floor, the goldfish bowl containing Nemo II and Dory’s happily swimming bodies, the CD recording of  _My Humps_  hidden under a book of Schubert scores, and the sad outline of a Patrick from SpongeBob balloon hanging from his desk chair like a plastic bag.  
  
“Sebastian,” Blaine said, surprised at how strained his voice sounded to his own ears. “Please sit back down; I’m calling this meeting to order now. And, Jesse? Notes will not be necessary on this occasion.”  
  
Did Sebastian just stick out his tongue?  
  
Blaine cleared his throat with a low cough and continued. “So. I’ve noticed that there have been certain… occurrences since the beginning of this month.”  
  
“I’ll say,” said Sebastian, with a wink.  
  
Jesse narrowed his eyes. “And what occurrences might these be?”  
  
Blaine just shook his head.  
  
“Are you still upset about that goldfish? Because he only had a twenty second memory, so even if he did feel pain when…”  
  
“Oh, maybe you sprained your ankle roller-skating when we…”  
  
“No! I’ve managed to work through my grief, and my ankle is fine!” Blaine smiled and deftly did a cramp roll, landing back on the ground with a flourish to prove his point. “Look. Sebastian. Jesse. You both want to make me happy, don’t you?”  
  
Both boys nodded.  
  
“And your efforts have certainly been commendable, but, well.” Blaine took a deep breath and placed his hand over his mouth, feeling his face fire up as he stuttered to get his words out. “This attention is all very flattering, and you're both amazing. Really, you are, but… I’vealwayswantedathreesome.”  
  
“With  _him_?” Sebastian’s eyes were so wide they appeared even more telescopic than those of Blaine’s somewhat bubble-eyed goldfish. “I don’t think so.”  
  
Jesse nodded. “Absolutely. This body is a  _wonderland_ , and God did not create it to be  _shared_.”  
  
Blaine fluttered his eyelashes. “Not even with  _me_?”  
  
“But  _Jesse_? What the hell he’s got that I haven’t --”  
  
“Oh, please. An Amish community has more electricity than you. But, what the hell haven’t  _I_  got, Blaine? Is it because my James Brown impression’s not quite there? Perhaps I could try face paint, but after that audition for  _Porgy and Bess_...” Jesse paused.  
   
Sebastian’s expression suddenly turned from indignant to curious. “Wait. You’ve never had a threesome, Blaine? Really? Not even with Kurt and his...”  
  
Blaine didn’t even want to hear which name Sebastian would come up with. “Never,” he said, with a nod. “I’ve always been a little... medium drip, I suppose, but it’s been a fantasy for quite some time.” He joined the pair on the bed. “And I’d find it so, so hot. Even if I could just watch you two make out for a while.”  
  
“No way,” Sebastian said, poking Jesse in the chest. “I am not sucking face with  _him_.”  
  
“As though I’m going to give  _you_  the girlfriend experience,” Jesse said, tossing his head, his nose tipped up in the air. God, Blaine loved it when he did that. “I didn’t even give Rachel  _Berry_  the girlfriend experience.”  
  
Sebastian spluttered slightly. “Girlfriend experience? I know that skinny blonde from New Directions called her  _man hands_ , but…”  
  
“Oh, come on, guys!” Blaine smiled cheerily. “Just one little kiss? I don’t see why not; you two have  _plenty_  in common!”  
  
Okay, Blaine realised, all they really shared were petulant scowls, a complete lack of tact, and a proclivity to stamp all over the competition until they felt equal measures of arousal and fear in their veins.  However, Blaine realised that mentioning such character flaws probably wasn’t the best tack to take with two guys he was trying to coerce into a threesome.  
  
“We are  _not_  kissing,” Jesse continued, his eyes staring straight ahead. “Who knows  _what_  I might catch?”  
  
“This isn’t herpes! It’s just a zit!”  
  
“Oh, a zit? Are we still in puberty now? Do you really want a man with such immaturity, Blaine?”  
  
“Oh, shut up, St. James. Is that really the best you can do? Unlike you, I’ve actually taken the time to get to know Blaine, and he’s younger than  _both_  of us!”  
  
“Which is exactly why he needs the touch and experience of a significantly older man,” Jesse said with a nod. “And, in the long run, it’s a no-brainer, because I’ll be a silver fox, while you’ll be a silver weasel slinking underground into your dank little burrow.”  
  
“Wait, does that make me a chicken?” Blaine said. He shook his head, because he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Never mind. You’re both hot, so why not just let me see one kiss?” He fluttered his eyelashes and placed his palms over his chest. “Just for me? Please?”  
  
“You first,” Sebastian said with an overly-dramatic sigh, his hands clenched into tight fists.  
  
“No, you,” Jesse replied, with a flick of his hair.  
  
Blaine pressed his front teeth down on his bottom lip. He knew a little bit of begging would have them fulfil his fantasy, and oh was it the most delicious thing to watch. Kurt’s bickering had been rather arousing, but watching the two boys in front of him argue made his cock twitch in anticipation. Partly because their cheeks flushed so gorgeously, eyes big and bright, but also because Blaine knew just how rewarding it would be to make them feel so much pleasure it would knock the words right out of their mouths.  
  
“No, you,” Sebastian repeated, his nostrils flaring.  
  
Alternatively, he could stay quiet and jerk off while the two engaged in hate sex of epic proportions, though he wasn’t quite sure if that would count as a threesome, and he really did want to tick it off on his bucket list before he turned twenty.  
  
Blaine couldn’t help but moan softly. Sebastian’s stare was predatory, like a lioness about to go in for the kill before he dipped his head down and clashed his lips against Jesse’s in an angry, messy kiss. Sebastian’s eyes were wide open and he cupped his hand against the back of Jesse’s head while shooting Blaine a wink. He broke away with a brief smile, and Jesse’s lips were full and wet. Jesse opened his mouth, then closed it, before grabbing Sebastian’s shirt collar and dragging him in for another kiss.  
  
“There! That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Blaine nodded and grinned brightly before fumbling with his bow tie.  _God_ , he needed to get out of his ridiculous red work shorts; his dick was so hard they were like a compression bandage.  
  
“No,” Jesse replied, walking over to Blaine and drawing him into a kiss. He broke away, smirking with the corner of his mouth. “It was actually rather easy, just like Sebastian, here.”  
  
Blaine closed his eyes then squeaked as another pair of large, sure hands circled his waist and a warm, wet mouth brushed a kiss against his neck.  
  
Sebastian’s low whisper made him shudder. “Since when was being easy a  _bad_  thing?”  
  
Blaine whimpered low in his throat as Jesse cupped the back of his head, lightly scratched the curls at the back of his neck and kissed him, hard, biting his bottom lip and dragging it between his teeth. His arched his back, feeling Jesse’s hot, wanting breath on his face and the warmth of Sebastian’s chest, as eager, sure hands cupped his ass, squeezing him like they wanted to devour him whole.  There were hands everywhere, kneading him, stroking him, and he gasped as Jesse reached for the front of his sweater vest and Sebastian the other end as they pulled it over his shoulders and tossed it on the floor in one fluid movement.  
  
“Let me see you,” Jesse said softly, reaching up to pull at Blaine’s bow tie. He unbuttoned Blaine’s shirt with his other hand, while Sebastian’s large, warm hands traced patterns into his lower back, dipping beneath the waistband of Blaine’s underwear, making his breath hitch in surprise.  
  
 _God_ , Blaine wasn’t normally this forward. He needed romance, and candles, and wooing, or at least a little  _Pink_  on the stereo and a few bottles of Pabst Blue Ribbon, but for once, he tilted forward, kissing Jesse again, then arched back into Sebastian’s hands, just letting himself  _feel_.  
  
“What the hell?” Jesse said, Blaine’s eyes snapping open at the abrupt change in his voice.  
  
“Jesse? What’s wrong?” Blaine said, with a shiver.  
  
Jesse shook his head. “I thought these things were clip-on?” Blaine frowned, as he noticed Jesse’s gorgeous, flushed face had rapidly turned from a study of male lust into a study of frustration and embarrassment.  
  
Blaine whimpered as Sebastian’s hands left his body. “Let me,” he said, tilting his head down to press a line of soft, warm kisses against Blaine’s neck while his long fingers fumbled with the bow.  
  
“Well, fuck.”  
  
“Isn’t that, um, the idea, Sebastian?” Blaine said, placing a hand on his forearm.  
  
“No, the idea is to fuck  _Blaine_ ,” Jesse responded with a groan, and ripped at the offending garment. Yet, despite Jesse tugging with a fervour that would have rung the stiffest bell in the most dilapidated church, Blaine realised the knot on his bow tie still wouldn’t budge.  
  
Finally, Blaine shook his head and undid the bow himself, discarding it on the floor. He felt a little like he was a present, waiting to be unravelled and explored, layer-by-layer, and he felt his cock strain against the zip of his shorts at the thought. He took a deep breath, and undid the top button of his shirt before he shrugged it from his shoulders.  
  
“God, you’re  _gorgeous_ ,” Sebastian said, licking his lips.  
  
“Well, of course. You only just realised this now? Your vision is clearly even less perfect than your pitch.”  
  
“I was talking to Blaine, you idiot. Not you.”  
  
“Let me see you, too,” Blaine murmured, as Jesse cupped him through his clothing. “Take them off, both of you.” He sucked in a breath, aware that both the boys in front of him were still staring at his bare chest. “Please?”  
  
Blaine felt his cheeks flush; they didn’t need to be asked twice. The trio were soon naked, and stumbled back towards the bed in a blur of moans and gasps. Mainly stumbling because Blaine realised that while the sight was hot as fuck, Sebastian and Jesse still seemed to have other things on their mind. They were currently fighting amongst themselves for who got to touch what.  
  
“He doesn’t like it like that, you animal,” Jesse hissed, slapping at Sebastian’s palm. “Gentle. He likes it  _gentle_. You’re not handling livestock here.”  
  
“I  _knew_  you were the one who wrote that on the toilet wall! The fact you used glitter pens should have been a clue.”  
  
“That, and I signed it!”  
  
Quite honestly, Blaine didn’t much care  _what_  they were saying, as long as they kept touching him like  _that_. He sighed happily and allowed his eyes to flutter shut as they began to take out their frustrations on his skin. He felt sharp teeth nip his collarbone followed by soft, delicious licks. A long, smooth tongue traced the vein in his jaw. He opened his eyes, and they were glaring at each other while touching and kissing him. They were fighting, over him. It was brutal, and it was sheer heaven, and he needed more.  
  
“Bedside drawer,” Blaine said, as Sebastian’s warm, wet lips slowly kissed their way down the trail of hair on his abdomen. He felt his cock twitch and clenched his hands in the sheets as he heard Sebastian inhale deeply, taking in his scent, before flicking his tongue against the head of his cock.  
  
Jesse’s eyes were deliciously wild, his pupils dark, as Blaine felt a slick finger glide up his inner thigh. He groaned, feeling Sebastian’s mouth slide down his cock as Jesse stroked him firmly, confidently. Blaine closed his eyes again, folding his hands behind his head, as he just let himself  _feel_.  
  
“No!” Sebastian sounded furious, and Blaine opened one eye tentatively, yet shivering as a blast of cold air danced across his spit-slick cock. “Hook your finger  _up_ , you moron, up!”  
  
“Oh, please. What is he, a  _kite_?”  
  
“Jesse,” Blaine said with a sigh. “That’s great, really, but it would be just perfect if it were just a tiny bit harder.”  
  
“See?” Sebastian said, or at least Blaine thought that was what he’d said. It was rather hard to be articulate around a mouthful of dick, Blaine supposed.  
  
“And Sebastian?”  
  
“Hmphphre?”  
  
“It really, really turns me on when a guy hums.”  
  
Blaine smirked, letting himself relax back in to their ministrations, Sebastian’s delicious lips thrumming around the head of his cock, and Jesse’s hands playing him like, like a harp or something. Frankly, Blaine was drifting away on a sea of all kinds of pleasure and tranquility, so who could blame him if his metaphors were a little off?  
  
The arguing was hot to an extent, but there was a time and a place for everything, and frankly? He intended on receiving even more pleasure from his particular performance than Bryan Ferry did during the Roxy Music reunion tour.  
  
“Do you want me inside you?” Sebastian asked.  
  
“Oh, like he wants you. I’m willing to bet your rhythm is even worse than your dance moves.”  
  
“Hm, I suppose we could always double up, then,” Sebastian said, his expression oddly thoughtful. “It would normally be a rather painful endeavour, but you are hung like a #2 pencil so he probably wouldn’t even feel it.”  
  
Blaine coughed and opened his mouth in shock. “What? No. No! Double penetration is just… no!” he said, realising that Jesse’s eyes were showing more fear than the young female protagonist of a Wes Craven movie.  “Jesse agrees with me. This… this is too far, Sebastian!”  
  
Sebastian licked his lips then smirked. “You said you wanted a kinky little threesome, didn’t you?”  
  
Blaine pouted. “I meant, well,  _Sex and the City_  kinky, not, like,  _Raging Stallion Studios_  kinky.”  
  
“Okay, I suppose we can accommodate,” Sebastian said. “After all, Jesse here does strike me as a natural bottom.”  
  
“Hardly. I top like a cherry on a delicious, manly sundae.” Jesse chuckled.  
  
“Oh, God,  _must_  you put me off food?” Sebastian gagged.  
  
“It might be an idea, Cankles. And anyway, you have power _less_  bottom written all over you, Smythe.”  
  
Blaine cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to ask me what  _I_  want?”  
  
Jesse smirked back at him. “Perhaps you could judge?” he said, tossing his head back like some sort of over-effusive show pony.  
  
Blaine frowned. “Judge? What, on age, or, or seniority, or your scores on Rock Band 2? I don’t understand?”  
  
“Oh come on, Blaine. You know  _exactly_  what we mean.”  
  
Then, Blaine’s eyes focused on the slick glide of Sebastian’s hands working themselves up and down his cock as he stroked himself.  _Two hands_ , Blaine noted. Two hands, which were bringing him to full attention. Oh, crap.  
   
“You… you want me to judge which one of you has a bigger…” Blaine just knew his cheeks were burning up. “A bigger… penis?”  
  
Both boys nodded at him and knelt in front of him, side by side.  
  
“Uh...” Blaine paused, utterly lost for words.  
  
Was  _this_  how the judges at Nationals felt, having to choose between two wildly different, yet ideally competent… No. He shook his head. Granted, they both made his mouth water, and neither was exactly lacking, but Blaine had to be fair and rational, like Simon Cowell or Judge Judy. And, as both boys had agreed on the rules of competition, then there could only be one winner.  
  
“Jesse,” Blaine said, bracing himself for impact. “It’s very close, though.  Very, very close. Would you like a photo finish, or…?”  
  
“Thank you,” Jesse replied. “It’s an honour.  I’d like to thank my parents, first of all, and the growth hormone I took when I was eleven, and if you are wondering, I already  _do_  have plenty of photographs, so would you care to --”  
  
This time, it was Sebastian who shut him up with a kiss.  
  


* * *

  
  
Blaine’s fingers curled into the bedspread, his knuckles white from his grip. His legs shook, his breath was fast and sweat pooled at the base of his spine. This was more than anything he had ever dreamed.  
  
“Are you ready?” Jesse whispered, draping his chest across his back and arching his fingers just so.  
  
“Yes,” gasped Blaine. “Please. Please fuck me!” He sobbed as Jesse’s fingers left him and arched his back up on instinct, feeling empty and needy at their disappearance. It was a short-lived feeling as he felt the slick, thick head of Jesse’s cock dip between the cleft of his ass, circling his entrance teasingly. He groaned at the feel of Jesse’s talented fingers, massaging the dimples in his lower back.  
  
“Is that it?” Sebastian laughed, and then pressed a kiss against the back of Blaine’s neck. “Perhaps we should switch? You could perhaps come up here and floss Blaine’s teeth with it?”  
  
“You are as crude as your Action Man haircut!” Jesse spat back. “And blind. As Blaine indicated, I’ve clearly got an advantage over you in size  _and_  girth.” Blaine groaned and clutched the sheets even harder as Jesse slowly eased in. “See?”  
  
“No way! Come over here and I’ll—ow!” Sebastian glanced down at him, frowning at Blaine’s fingers that had pinched his thigh.  
  
“Deal,” Jesse said, sliding out slowly, “with,” he slid back in with such force it caused Blaine’s head to bump against the headboard, “it.”  
  
“He’s—oh, my God, yes, --he’s not going anywhere.” Blaine shook his head as Jesse bent down to nibble on his earlobe and then held up his hand to Sebastian’s mouth, Sebastian sucking each of Blaine’s fingers until they were glistening, his long pink tongue running over his teeth.  
  
“But—oh, fine.” Sebastian’s voice was wavery as Blaine’s hand gripped at his cock and started to jerk him off in uneven, rough strokes. “Who feels bigger? It’s me isn’t it?”  
  
Blaine’s other hand twined into the duvet as he gave a shaky laugh. “Actually, if you two have to compare, Kurt was hu—“ Blaine’s sentence was cut off as Sebastian knelt behind him, easing his dick into his mouth, his hand rubbing against Blaine’s jaw, Blaine breathing through his nose as he took in Sebastian’s full length.  
  
“Good instincts,” Jesse muttered, with a firm snap of his hips.  
  


* * *

  
  
Jesse, as in all things, won. Hips smacking hard against Blaine’s buttocks and hand gripped hard at his neck, his movements became faster, harder and more erratic.  
  
“Oh, my God,” Sebastian groaned, his head thrown back as Blaine’s mouth worked over his cock.  
  
“Wow,” Jesse said, Blaine whimpering as he paused. “ _Oh,_ my  _God_? Really? Where the hell did you get your sex talk from,  _Showgirls_?”  
  
“Will you shut up, Jesse? You’re really taking the edge off this.”  
  
“Shut--- oh, yes, yes, yes, who is your father? Yes! Yes! What? Uh! There, there. Stop staring at me, Edvard Munch face!” Jesse snarled, his pounding speeding and shoving Blaine forward and further down on Sebastian’s dick. “Yes!” he positively shrieked as he shuddered and came, his hand pushing Blaine’s head down.  
  
Instinctively, Blaine swallowed, his throat contacting tightly, and that was it for Sebastian. With a low grunt, he was following Jesse’s lead and coming hard into Blaine’s waiting throat.  
  
A hand crept round to Blaine’s groin, Jesse’s he supposed, and began to pump his slick cock, thumb sliding over the tip and smearing the moisture. With a gasp, Blaine pulled off Sebastian’s cock and pressed his face into the crease of his thigh.  
  
It was like a tidal wave of pleasure pushing him out to sea. His toes curled, his back arched and the heat in his stomach tore through him as his climax built. Palms lay all over him, touching and stroking as Blaine’s orgasm hit him at full welt.  
  
“Here, Blaine,” a voice said tenderly, and so lost in a daze of pleasure he couldn’t even discern who it belonged to as they settled him back against the sheets and kissed gently at his collarbone. Wearily, he opened his eyes and stared up happily at the two beautiful boys.  
  
“Thank you,” he whispered. They muttered back their no problems and gave him bashful grins. “That was perfect.”  
  
“Naturally,” they answered in unison, sharing a glare at that was still terse, but the fire had certainly dimmed from their previous interactions.  
  
“In spite of this, you’re still paying me for help with choreography,” said Jesse, sweeping a bead of sweat from Blaine’s forehead. “Both of you.”  
  
“But I ---”  
  
“Both of you,” Jesse replied, draping his arm around Sebastian’s shoulder. “Even if we have come to this... agreement.”  
  
“Okay. Well. I grudgingly have to admit that seems fair.”  
  
Blaine merely chuckled, placing his head in his hands, and eyeing Jesse’s discarded notepad from the corner of his eye. It contained a crudely-drawn picture of an... animal, he supposed? Some sort of feline animal? Art History had been Blaine’s weakest elective that semester and perhaps Jesse’s post-modern conceptualisation of a kitten had flown straight over his head.  
  
Oh.  _Crap_. His assignment. Sure, Blaine might have been lost in a sea of pleasure that afternoon, but he still had his responsibilities.  
  
“Jesse, did you, uh, sweep my flash drive off the bed when we were...”  
  
Though, Sebastian and Jesse were still beside him, Jesse’s tongue laving over the blooming purple bruise on the crook of Sebastian’s shoulder, Sebastian’s long, suckable fingers clenching in Jesse’s hair, his eyes closed and head tilted back in bliss, and Blaine felt his throat dry up all over again, because he couldn’t quite bring himself to think about Art History at that point in time.  
   
“My turn,” Sebastian said, with a growl. And, for once, Jesse remained silent.

**Game over.**


End file.
